Dateline Discovery

Traveling alone can be difficult, especially in a foreign country — but with a little help from technology and humanity, it can also be rewarding.

The frantic cadence of a man speaking an East Asian language interrupted the rhythmic pounding of my heartbeat.

After a mad dash from the shuttle bus to the train station at the Baltimore-Washington International Airport — why don’t they ever time these things better? — I managed to clear the threshold of the cafe car on Amtrak’s Northeast Regional service seconds before the doors hissed closed.

Out of breath and practically panting, I slid onto the first bench I saw, satisfied I didn’t have to wait 50 minutes for the next train to arrive. (“America,” I thought.) I fidgeted with my backpack, tucking away my passport and my boarding pass. I checked my cell phone, noting the time.

It was a Tuesday morning, but the car was uncharacteristically empty, save for three Amtrak workers congregating near the bar and two passengers at the opposite end with their backs to me. I fired off a quick text message to a friend, letting him know I had made the train and would make our lunch appointment. I exhaled again, leaning forward onto the table and nestling my head into my arms.

That’s when the voice pierced the train’s low idling rumble. Ahead, one of the two passengers — an Asian man, in his mid-40s, wearing a plaid black-and-orange plaid shirt, jeans and a navy ballcap with “USA” stitched in white over the American flag — was leaning over the other, a student in a white button-down shirt, the collar open to the middle of his sternum and his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows.

He was gesturing hurriedly, pointing out the window and jamming a small white egg-shaped device in the student’s face. That’s when it came to me: The man must have been frantic because he recognized the word “Washington,” thinking this was the city station.

“About 30 minutes. This is just the airport” the student said, slowly and clearly, into the egg, handing it back to the man.

The egg beeped, and the man looked at it, nodded and muttered something I couldn’t hear as he walked back to his seat two booths further away.

He had gone from panicked to passive in a matter of seconds, his nerves settled by the reassurance of his instant translation. Less bulky than guidebooks and certainly less time-consuming than trying to learn a language, I have relied upon it on countless occasions, from decoding menus to asking for directions.

We’re not the only ones. The New York Times reported that at the World Cup, which brought people from more than 30 countries together in Russia, Google Translate became the default way for strangers to interact. Apps can now make sense of foreign signs, translate text messages instantly between users speaking different languages and, perhaps most importantly, settle people’s nerves.

I had settled in, too, and had pulled a book out of my bag as the train sped through the Maryland suburbs. Not long after, the man returned, sidling up beside the student.

We had pulled into New Carrolton, one stop from Washington on this service, and the man spoke into the egg again. As he handed it to the student, it beeped. The student looked at it, then answered, telling him there was still some time before we were due to pull into Union Station.

The man muttered again, though slightly louder. “Xie xie,” the man said — “thank you” in Mandarin, as I recognized without a translation app.

I smiled, which the man must have caught out of the corner of his eye as he returned to his seat. He stopped and smiled back, offering a slight nod of his head, which the student noticed. He turned around and saw me sitting there, perhaps listening a bit too intently.

“He got on with me in New York,” the student said. “He’s been coming over every five minutes. He’s worried about making it to Washington on time.”

“That’s fantastic,” I told him, beaming in amazement. “Thanks for helping him out.”

The student and I continued talking. I told him how many times I’ve been on a train in an unfamiliar country and wondered constantly whether I was in the right place. I shared tales of subway systems around the world, with people glued to their phones and unafraid to even make eye contact with a fellow traveler.

Some of the most spontaneous, informative conversations can take place among seatmates, I said, thinking about a situation I once had in Norway — and the student agreed.

“I’m going to China this summer,” he leaned over and said. “I told him that. He added me on WeChat, then he invited me to Shenzhen to stay with him.”

Then, shrugging his shoulders, with a slight grin creeping across his face, he said, “I wasn’t planning on going, but now, I guess I have to.”

Up in the front of the car, the man began rummaging through a plastic bag. We had begun slowing down as Union Station neared, and he pulled out something small before returning to the student.

It was a stuffed panda, maybe six inches tall, with the tags still hanging off one of its arms. He handed the panda — and the egg — to the student, who then handed the egg to me.

“I want to thank you for your help,” read the egg in blue letters on a small, digital screen. “This panda is a souvenir for you.”

I shook my head, partly in disbelief. The student was doing something that should be second nature, comforting someone in moderate distress, yet I thought the man’s gesture was particularly touching.

So did the student. He thanked the man profusely, then pulled out his phone for a photo. The two took a selfie, egg and panda prominently on display, before the man turned to me with his phone and gestured for his own a photo of the two of them. Then, not yet satisfied, he put his arm around me and handed his phone to the student, who snapped another picture.

We exchanged pleasantries, and with the train pulling into Union Station, we returned to our seats to assemble our belongings. I grabbed my black bag, thanked the student again for his company, wished him well and shook hands with the man.

Intending to meet a friend for lunch, I had to scurry off the train. But as I looked back, the two walked off together, the man once again handing the egg to the student, an international friendship made in an unlikely place through uncommon means.

Want to go? I took this trip on Amtrak in July 2018 from Baltimore-Washington International Airport to Washington Union Station.

Disclaimers: All products, services and experiences were paid for and arranged by the author and the vendors named herein had no editorial oversight of this piece. The cover photo is licensed through Amtrak as a publicity photo; other photographs were taken by and remain the property of the author. Contact for republication rights.